


make or break

by palmviolet



Series: prompt fills [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, First Kiss, Hopper Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Set during 3.08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 14:16:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmviolet/pseuds/palmviolet
Summary: he’s not fucking dying tonight, because he’s got a daughter to save and a date to get to. an appointment at enzo’s he can’t fucking miss, not for the goddamn world.// written for the prompt: hop makes it back to the lab on time but joyce is still unconscious.





	make or break

They look at each other, over the gap between the consoles. Meet each other’s eyes and nod. _On three._

Only they don’t get to three, because Hopper is flung to the side and Joyce runs for the gun on the floor, only for the Russian to grab her by the neck - the _neck_ \- while Hopper is down, winded. He can only watch as she’s thrown into the console with a cry that makes his blood run cold, and then she doesn’t get up.

She doesn’t get up and he launches himself at the Russian, because he may have his back turned now but he’s only a second away from taking that gun and putting a bullet in Joyce’s brain. They tumble down the stairs together, heads knocking against the railings, both grunting in pain from each new blow. One moment the Russian has the upper hand, then Hopper does - they’re evenly matched, but Hopper is desperate. Hopper is desperate, because El is in danger and_ Joyce isn’t moving_. 

And then he’s pinned down, but he’s not dying tonight. He’s not fucking dying tonight, because he’s got a daughter to save and a date to get to. An appointment at Enzo’s he can’t fucking miss, not for the goddamn world. (What kind of hypocrite would he be then? he thinks wryly. Nevermind that tomorrow’s probably too soon, what with the pain blossoming in various places across his body and the fact that _Joyce isn’t moving_. He’s still not missing that fucking date.)

When he launches the guy into the machine itself with a hissed _I’ll see you in hell_ he side-steps in time, in the right direction, and the glaring lightning strikes down behind him as he stares up at the control room. All he think of is Joyce - not his near miss, not the fact that he just killed a man. The Russian is long gone but he’s sure more will soon arrive and they have to close the gate. They have to or else El and her friends-

They’re all in danger, and only Hopper can save them. Hopper and Joyce, together, only when he gets back up there Joyce still isn’t moving. 

“Joyce,” he lets out, and it’s louder than he intended, almost a yell. He sinks to his knees beside her prone form and touches her shoulder, gently at first but harder as she still doesn’t wake.

The radio, lying discarded on the floor, crackles to life. “Hello? Is anyone even there?”

He grabs it. “Dustin? It’s Hopper.”

“Where the hell were you? We’ve been trying-“ He cuts himself off. “You have to close the gate now.”

Hopper shakes Joyce again, harder this time. Reluctantly, gradually, she stirs. “Hop,” she whispers as her eyes settle on his. She’s bloody and bruised, he realises. Hat long gone, hair wild and loose. 

“Joyce, we gotta- we gotta get up, we gotta close the gate.”

She blinks at him slowly and his heart sinks. What if she’s concussed? What if - worse than that - she’s got brain damage or something? What if she can’t even-

But she struggles to sit up, uses his hand as a crutch. “The Russian?” she says, a sudden fear coming into her eyes.

“Dead,” he says. He doesn’t have time to ponder the weight of that. He’s killed before, way back in ‘Nam, and if shit keeps going down in Hawkins he’ll likely kill again. It’s not a big deal to him anymore. 

She makes it to her feet but then she gasps, clutches at her ribcage with agony written across her face.

“What? What’s wrong?” And maybe there’s a little too much panic in his tone but he can’t help it, he can’t - god, he can’t lose her, not now, not ever.

She’s opening her mouth to answer, staggering a little, leaning heavily on both the console and him, when Dustin comes on the radio again, voice impatient. “Hurry up and close the gate! Unless you just want them all to die-“

“Shut up,” Hopper barks down the line and drops it to the floor. Then he guides Joyce over to one end of the panel, presses the key back into her hand. “Let’s end this, huh?” he whispers. Somehow he’s pressed close enough that his breath stirs her hair.

She looks at him and her eyes are dull with pain, but there’s no confusion in them. Her gaze is dark with conviction.

So he pulls away from her as Dustin continues to scream down the line and the machine flashes and flickers through the glass. He meets her eyes over the gap. “No countdown this time.”

She shakes her head. “No countdown,” she repeats, and turns her key.

He turns his-

And they both duck away from the blinding, burning light as the gate slams shut, again. The machine doesn’t just shut off, it explodes, and he dreads to think what would have happened if he was on the other side of that glass. But he wasn’t. The crack in dimensions creeps shut with sinuous, eerie reluctance, but it shuts nonetheless. Leaves only a faintly glowing line in the wall.

He exhales a breath he scarcely knew he was holding, and looks back over at Joyce. She’s leaning over on the console, chest heaving, but she meets his gaze with a look of triumph. “We made it,” she whispers, and then he has to run forward to catch her as she falls.

She’s still conscious, just weak with relief. She lets him hold her up. All but melts into his arms. “We made it,” she repeats, and there’s some kind of meaning behind her words that he’s just not getting.

She rolls her eyes up at him, and though she’s bloodstained and dazed she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“We deserve to celebrate, right?” she whispers, right before she leans up and kisses him on the lips.

It’s warm and soft and so, so right it sets his head spinning. Like he’s the one who’s concussed, not Joyce- and then he pulls back. “Wait- are you sure- you’re probably concussed or something-“

She’s rolling her eyes again, so hard it must hurt. “Trust me, Hop, I know what I’m doing. Now shush, or I might not do it again.”

He smiles at her foolishly. Stays silent accordingly as she kisses him again, and thinks how goddamn lucky he is.

Maybe they’ll make Enzo’s after all.

**Author's Note:**

> just a short little something i bashed out for a prompt :) speaking of, i do take prompts so feel free to shoot me an ask over on tumblr (palmviolet.tumblr.com) 
> 
> let me know your thoughts xx


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